


Candy Grams

by JoulesIsIronic



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Candy Grams, Crushes, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 09:19:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1184536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoulesIsIronic/pseuds/JoulesIsIronic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Valentine's Day at BHHS and Stiles has finally struck up the nerve to send a candy gram to his longtime crush.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Candy Grams

**Author's Note:**

> Just a li'l fluff drabble. I tried to base Derek's characterization more towards what we saw in "Visionary" because, well, high school. In this AU, Derek's in their age group and nothing terrible has happened to him. Happy Valentine's Day, ya'll.

When Stiles bounds into the room, he is quite literally bouncing from foot-to-foot, almost like a little boy who has to pee, but with a cheek-to-cheek grin rather than an anxious grimace.

“I did it! I finally did it! And everyone else can basically suck it,” is how he greets his friends, sliding across from Scott and Isaac in the cafeteria. He doesn’t bother pulling out his lunch. He’s too excited to really dig in.

Scott beams at him. “Congrats, man! What did you finally do?”

“I sent Derek a Candy Gram,” Stiles tells them smugly, picking a fry of Scott’s tray. “Duh.”

Candy Grams have been a BHHS Valentine’s Day tradition for the last twenty or so years. For a single dollar, you can profess your undying love for the person of your dreams and feed them a delicious piece of chocolate in the meanwhile. It’s pretty brilliant, in Stiles’ humble opinion, and there’s absolutely no way it can backfire.

Scott returns his sentiment wholeheartedly. “That’s awesome! I’m really happy for you.”

Isaac, on the other hand, doesn’t look particularly impressed, and is eying Stiles like an ugly dog at an animal shelter – that is, with _pity_.

Stiles swipes a few more fries and demands, “What?”

Isaac just shrugs, glancing at Scott as if for approval. “It’s nothing.”

“That’s not a look of ‘nothing,’ that’s a look of I-know-something-I’m-not-telling-you,” Stiles points out accusingly. “What do you know that I don’t know?”

“I don’t know anything,” Isaac tells him earnestly, playing with his food. “It’s just, that’s a big step, sending Derek a Candy Gram when he doesn’t even know you exist.”

Stiles frowns and Scott pushes his tray toward him so that Stiles can more easily access handfuls of food. He’s a stress-eater. Always has been. “He knows I exist,” Stiles protests, his stomach sinking further with every second.

“Derek’s totally into you,” Scott assures him.

“I’m your best friend,” Stiles exclaims. “You have to say that!”

Scott falters, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t lie to you, dude. He’d be lucky to have you.”

“Yeah, if he’s looking for a hyperactive loudmouth,” Isaac mutters, almost inaudibly. Scott must hear him too, because he turns to him sharply and glares.

The panic bubbling in his gut starts to rise, twisting at his insides like two giants playing jump rope with his intestines. “Oh my god. I made a terrible mistake!” he cries, lunging to his feet. “Fuck! Fuckity fuck! What did I do?”

“Stiles, it’s going to be fine!” Scott insists, watching him beseechingly. “I swear Derek likes you! He’s going to be thrilled!”

“Why would he like me?” Stiles challenges, running a hand anxiously over his face. “He’s a life ruiner, Scott. Do you know what that means? It means he’s perfect. Utterly fucking perfect. I mean, he’s cocky and kind of a showoff, but that’s nothing! Like, minus-nothing. Shit. Oh my god. I’m screwed. I’m so screwed. Why didn’t anyone stop me?”

Scott stands, reaching over the table to place a reassuring hand on Stiles’ shoulder. “Trust me, bro, everything’s going to be fine.”

Stiles can’t hear him, too focused on visions of Derek’s face and the apprehensive expression he’s bound to wear if he ever receives that message.

“I have to stop that Candy Gram,” Stiles interrupts determinedly.

When Scott opens his mouth, Stiles is sure he’s going to protest, but Stiles is already turning heel and rushing from the room. There’s no time to waste. It’s Mission Impossible time.

Of course, it doesn’t really end up like Mission Impossible. It’s a lot less exciting.

Stiles rushes dramatically into the Student Council office. The bags with the Grams are gone. That doesn’t bode well.

“Are they already out for delivery?” Stiles asks desperately.

Lydia, their flawless class president, nods disinterestedly from her Physics textbook. “Yup,” she answers, popping the p.

“How do I stop it?”

“All sales are final,” Lydia says, barely glancing up.

His knees are shaking as he speaks. “I will literally pay you if I can stop the delivery, or if you will at least tell me who’s doing the delivering.”

Lydia sighs, tapping the keys on her phone. “I have Jackson out delivering.” An alert dings. “He’s on the third floor.”

The third floor… that’s where Derek’s class is. Fuck.

“Thank you!” He calls back, already rushing out the door.

Two at a time, he sprints up the stairs, the slaps against concrete echoing in the stairwell. Jackson’s just stepping out of a classroom as Stiles runs into the hall, skidding gracelessly to a halt. The other teen glances at him warily, rolling his eyes.

“Wait!” Stiles hisses when Jackson starts heading toward another class. In a few short strides he closes the distance between them. “Hale. Have you already delivered to Derek Hale?”

Jackson raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “Aw, you got a little crush?”

“Oh my god,” Stiles snaps, fists clenching at his sides. “It’s really not that difficult of a question. Did you deliver it or not?”

The douchebag shrugs, taking his good sweet time to answer, enjoying the way he’s tormenting Stiles by holding him in suspense. “Room 302 was my first stop.”

Of course it was. Because that’s Derek’s classroom.

Fuck his life.

“Sorry,” Jackson says unapologetically, brushing past him to head for another room.

Defeatedly, Stiles slumps against the lockers behind him, sliding to the floor. That, of course, is when the bell rings.

“Wow, I really can’t catch a break, can I?”

In mass, the other students file from their respective classrooms, stampeding past him. No less than four students manage to step on him before he’s able to drag himself to his feet. For one, naïve second he thinks he might be able to slink out of the hallway without Derek seeing him.

Then he hears a voice behind him. “Stiles?”

He freezes, wincing. Half of him is tempted to flee, hoping Derek will assume he hallucinated the whole thing, but the curious half wins out. The curious half _always_ seems to win out.

Reluctantly, Stiles turns. Derek’s not a jerk, not really, so he knows the guy isn’t going to hit him or anything for making a pass, but he certainly doesn’t expect to see Derek grinning at him, the valentine still clutched in his hand.

Stiles opens his mouth, not really sure what he should say, but Derek beats him to the punch.

“Yes,” Derek announces, stepping closer, half-shoving the other bystanders out of the way.

Stiles blinks at him. “What?” he asks intelligently.

“In your Candy Gram you asked if I wanted to go with you to the Holiday Dance. So, yes. Yes I do.” When Stiles continues to stare, Derek seems to falter, the smile slipping from his face. “You did send me a Candy Gram, right?”

Finally, his brain seems to play catch-up. “No, yeah, that was definitely, one-hundred percent me. You actually want to go with me?”

Derek’s smile is back, all bunny-teeth and bright eyes. “If you’re still asking.”

“I am _so_ still asking,” Stiles tells him, nodding enthusiastically.

Derek winks. Stiles fistpumps. And they all lived happily ever after.

The end. 


End file.
